


Portable Temptation

by Shalashacelot



Series: ADAM'S Temptation [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Lots of Thinking, M/M, Plot Intensive, implied sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shalashacelot/pseuds/Shalashacelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>IMPORTANT NOTICE!!!</b> This fic is on hold while I sort out my life, because I've been far too busy to really get into the plot of PO, and right now I'm getting really mixed up... I need at least a week to sort everything out and write up a buffer of chapters!! SO SORRY!!! Please stick around, and look for an actual update by November 12th, 2015 12am EST!</p><p>In the meanwhile, go check out my <a href="http://revolverfnibblet.tumblr.com/">metal gear art&stuff blog</a>, because I will still be doing art over there, as well as my Cowboy Bosselot AU Comic called <a href="http://revolverfnibblet.tumblr.com/spaghetti-revolvers">Spaghetti-Revolvers</a>!</p><p>A continuation of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4803248/chapters/10994771">The Temptation of ADAM</a>, the Snake Eater Bosselot AU, where it was ADAM who helped Snake instead of EVA!</p><p>This fic will focus on the aftermath, AFTER Snake Eater, and delve into the weird plot that was Portable Ops! Check notes for Chapter One about how I want to go about this!</p><p>Read on as I make Ocelot spend more time with Snake, actually having more than just a mysterious background influence in the actual game!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calls

**Author's Note:**

> I have a very basic and minor understanding of Portable Ops, so this AU is going to be almost completely "AU-y", with only the basic plot of PO in mind - I'm going to focus less on getting speeches exactly word for word (unless its major scenes with Gene or whatever) as well as scenes, and instead focus more on what I can make up! Since this AU is a continuation of [The Temptation of ADAM](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4803248/chapters/10994771), then a lot of what's going to happen is going to very off-canon! Obviously!

He didn’t slam down the phone. He didn’t even growl. He just accepted his luck.

Adam held his breath, watching the man in front of him just sigh into his chair, one single eye critiquing the small phone on the table next to him.

“Again?”

“Again.”

He stood up, walking away from the phone for the millionth time that month. The only month Adam was able to see him over the course of the year, and unfortunately their time together was constantly bombarded with calls.

“If I don’t answer,” he had grumbled to Adam the first few times the calls arrived, “Then they come up here and try to persuade me in person.”

And the calls kept coming, each one with a different mission to suggest to the legendary “Big Boss”.

But the two of them preferred to call him John.

John looked over to Adam, standing in front of him with a frown on his face, which led Adam to tousle his slightly overgrown brown hair. He combed through the mess, gloved fingers stretching at tough knots, stroking softly.

Adam was scarcely able to see him, still working under the Philosophers. His missions took him back with the KGB, spending most of the year in the Soviet Union, gallivanting about with obtaining precious information for the CIA to philosophize about.

Each year, Adam was only able to spend perhaps a month at a time, give or take a week or two, with John, before being shipped back out to the Soviet Union. John himself, stayed in his apartment, avoiding anything the CIA attempted to toss at him.

John had humored them a little every now and again, but after a few years he stopped accepting anything. He started losing the will, and stayed home.

Adam wasn’t entirely sure what John did in his spare time, knowing him only to go out once in awhile and enjoy the weather, or visit the cemetery _she_ rested in. Whenever he managed to return to John’s old apartment, they always spent the time there. Just being together.

Adam took John’s face to his own, breathing him in with a small kiss.

“What time are you going to leave again?” John murmured, pressing his forehead to Adam’s. Their month had gone by quickly, as all of their months have been.

“Tomorrow,” Adam reminded him, “Seven in the morning.”

“South America, huh?”

“There’s a base stationed in Columbia,” Adam recalled the precious information hushed over to him by a few colleagues. The one known as Major Zero, specifically, “Russian owned. They want me there to keep tabs on a few people.”

“The usual?”

“The usual.”

“That’s all I need to know,” John sighed, turning away from Adam and sitting down on a rickety sofa, the cushions pomfing out with a puff.

Adam nodded, understanding how John refused to, for the most part, work with the CIA and the Philosophers, ever since the Snake Eater mission six years ago. He accepted Adam continuing his work, if only to maintain their own tabs on their “benefactors”.

Though John’s continued absence from the line of battle, especially more recently, rose more suspicions upon him. Adam himself had several uncomfortable questions from the Philosophers - “Have you been in contact with Big Boss?” and “Can you talk to Big Boss, help us persuade him?”

Adam always responded with not knowing what “Big Boss” was up to nowadays. As far as the Philosophers knew, Adam and “Big Boss” had parted ways since Snake Eater.

But of course, here he was, standing in John’s apartment.

It was starting to put a strain on their relationship. Adam constantly being away from John for a majority of the year. Whenever he managed to visit it was wonderful, the two or three weeks full of puppy and kitten love, shared laughs, stories of Adam’s time in Russia. Then came the fourth week, the overhanging threat of Adam leaving once again.

And interspersed through those days were the phone calls. Constant. Once per day. At least. As Adam’s departure time grew nearer and nearer, so did the limit of his patience for them.

“John,” Adam mumbled, looking over to him. He thought for a while as soon as John reared his head over to him, curious.

“What if…” Adam paused, clicking his heel. He wasn’t wearing his spurs, instead just the naked boots. As much as John claimed he loved them, he also made the point of such an accessory attracting far too much attention outside of his missions. There, it was a cute detail, a unique identifier for “Ocelot”, John delivered with a smirk.

Here, a spotlight, for judging eyes to gaze on the foreigner. The one who stood out.

Unless of course, Adam chose to wear his entire uniform with him, constantly whenever he was out. Even then it would be far too much, a military personnel wandering the city streets, perhaps drawing even the Philosophers to his location, deducing his whereabouts.

So instead he wore the normal boots, hitched high upon the dark, overly large jeans borrowed from John. He wore his belt to fit it upon his smaller hips, tied just under a tucked in white tank top, framed by a simple black jacket. Also borrowed.

John stared at Adam, in the [clothes](http://i.imgur.com/WeVR4oL.png) he managed to scavenge up for him, underneath his favorite red scarf, matching his favorite red gloves. Waiting for Adam to recollect his thoughts.

“Have you considered-” Adam stopped again, biting his lips. John looked away, figuring out what Adam may have wanted to ask of him.

“No,” John responded back, “I’m done.”

“I know,” Adam breathed hesitantly, hating himself for even trying what the Philosophers suggested of him, “But… what are you going to do?”

“Peace.”

Adam didn’t want to say anything else. It wasn’t peace, what John was having right now. It was still turmoil, depression, lounging around without a purpose.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to bring John back into the world of what the Philosopher’s have created for them.

“I know what you’re thinking, Adam,” John interrupted his thoughts, swivelling back around to face him.

“Do you?” He gulped, not liking the tension. At all.

“How is this peace?” John rolled his head, looking around his apartment. Cleaner, now that Adam was here, but each time he returned from his mission, John managed to let it go. It worried him.

“Do you have an answer to that?”

“No,” John admitted, looking over to Adam, “No I don’t.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Adam felt his chest bursting, feeling as though they were going to reach a very touchy subject, “I can’t keep going back and forth like this, running off to do the Philosopher’s bidding and coming back here-”

He stopped, taking in a deep breath of air.

“If we went on a mission together,” Adam tested the waters, “Maybe it’ll be better for us.”

“Like old times?” John looked away, thinking, “Maybe.”

But his voice reflected reluctance, just a way to humor Adam. He sighed.

“What if we don’t-” Adam thought aloud, his thoughts materializing on his tongue as he spoke, “What if I quit?”

“You?”

“Yeah,” Adam had considered this, “Step away from the Philosophers.”

“I can’t make you do that,” John stood up, walking over, “It’s what you’re good at, right?”

It was. Adam enjoyed his place in the Philosophers, even if he despised the group themselves. It made him feel important, a special spy infiltrating the ranks who were unbeknownst to his true purpose.

“If we could work without being interfered with the Philosophers,” John shrugged, not believing himself, “That would be better.”

“The Philosophers have their greedy hands in everything,” Adam scoffed bitterly, but something about that tickled him. Scratched at a curious idea he had.

Word had gotten out, at least to Adam who then shared it with John of course, that the Legacy Adam obtained with much trouble only contained the whereabouts of half of the funds promised after searching for almost five years. The recent year was the revelation, causing a furious uproar within the Philosophers, first with suspicions to Adam himself, and then to John.

But it was only a whisper of suspicion, the Philosophers unwilling to immediately demean “Big Boss”. Adam himself had always worked with them, so their narrowed eyes only passed by him temporarily, especially given his continued spywork, granting them a wealth of information of enemies if not an actual wealth.

It all came down to greed, greed, and more greed.

“If I got _my_ hands on the other half of the Legacy,” Adam teased, then prickled, suddenly interested in his own speculation, “We could work something out of that.”

“A pipe dream,” John only grumbled back, shaking his head. He pat Adam’s shoulder, drawing him in with a hug, “I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult for you.”

John passed over what Adam had suggested, but it remained with him, even as John’s warm arms caressed him. Adam kept it to himself, for now at least, until he could fully develop a plan. The other half of the Legacy. He had a thought it would be somewhere with the KGB. Perhaps Adam would have to pay another untimely visit to Russia, after his South America “vacation”.

But it meant sacrificing a majority of his break with John. He’d keep it to the side for now. Just something to keep in mind.

“It’s not your fault,” Adam reassured John, stroking his neck softly, “I just hate having to leave again.”

“Let’s go out tonight,” John suggested, pointing Adam’s face to his, one eye looking for an answer.

“We’ve never ‘gone out’,” Adam smirked, fluttering his lashes, “Other than you know where.”

“It’s a little dreary at the cemetery, I’ll admit,” John compromised, “But what do you think?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Some place the Philosophers won’t find us.”

“Difficult,” Adam tilted his head, looking at John’s lips a few inches away.

“There’s a park?” John’s eye looked at an imaginary list in his mind, “Or, the, theatre?”

“I’m not sure if they’re running any westerns, though” John flashed a smile.

“Not interested,” Adam joked, kissing him with a quick peck, sticking lips together temporarily before drawing out, “But I could go for a walk.”

“Okay,” John nodded, deciding. He looked about the apartment, um-ing to himself, before turning back to Adam, “Ah, are you ready?”

Adam shrugged, patting himself to make sure he at least had his copy of the apartment keys, “I guess.”

“Okay,” John coughed, then double checked something in his pocket, likely a knife. You can never be too sure, “Okay. Alright, let’s go then.”

Adam held back a grin, following John who led him out of the dreary building, the creaky steps that haven’t been cleaned, and the door that squeaked each time the hinges dared themselves to move.

Adam placed a brave hand around John’s arm as they went out into the public city, causing John to look down worried.

“Adam,” He scolded softly, yet refused to remove from their embrace.

“We’re just good friends,” Adam batted his lashes, both to John, and the pair of eyes that passed them as they walked through the small lobby.

John almost looked as if he were going to laugh, before his eye jerked upwards, seeing something that immediately made him tear out of Adam’s grasp. Adam looked towards the sight, wondering who dared make John this defensive.

“Major,” John gruffed, not referring to Adam.

“Snake,” Was the response. If Adam wasn’t looking right at the man, he would have already known it was Zero, Major Zero, one of the only few who still referred to John as his old codename. His small eyes squinting their greeting to John before settling curiously on Adam. He gulped.

“Ocelot?” Zero asked, yet his voice hid any sort of surprise.

“Major,” Adam bowed his head, shifting further and further away from John the longer they stood there, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Zero mused, looking back to John and Adam, “Found your old pal Snake, huh?”

“Yeah,” Adam settled with that, “It’s been years.”

“I see,” Zero nodded, but something told Adam he knew far more than he was letting on. Adam would have to question him in the future, especially given his allegiance with the Philosophers, seemingly more on his and John’s side than their actual “bosses”.

“I said no, on the phone,” John responded, almost bitterly.

“I know,” Zero’s own accent helped him stand out just as much as Adam did, causing more than a few eyes to ogle their way, “That’s not why I’m here.”

“I have news, about FOX,” He continued, but looked curiously at the way John and Adam seemed to shuffle under his gaze, “But..”

“I think you two will find out for yourselves later,” Zero settled his stare on Adam, strangely enough, “You won’t need me to tell you.”

“Do you need us to find a more private area to speak?” Adam felt this moment to be extremely important, the way Zero seemed to look at Adam, a knowledge passing between the both of them. Zero was the one who suggested Adam to spy for the Philosophers at San Hieronymo in Columbia, the same mission he was about to leave for tomorrow. It couldn’t be coincidence that he was right there waiting for Adam.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Zero promised, then looked back to John, “I came at an unfortunate time it seems. It looks like you two have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well,” John looked as if he were to argue, but thought much better of it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll see you later,” Zero nodded a farewell, another knowing look tossed to Adam, “Ocelot, I’ll be the one picking you up to escort over to the airspace in the morning. Are you going to be staying here instead of your hotel room?”

“Yeah,” Adam straightened his face, “ _Snake_ made room for me on the couch.”

“Good,” Zero blinked, “I’ll see you later to discuss your mission further. Snake, you’ll hear from me soon.”

He walked away, out of sight and into the busy streets.

“Ah,” John looked awkwardly over to Adam as soon as the coast was clear, “What do we do now?”

“The park,” Adam said plainly, though his mind was elsewhere, focusing on what Zero meant about the mission. Surely it were the Philosophers who would fill him in on the matter, what would Zero have to do with it? And what about the FOX unit?

But he returned his look to John, deciding to not worry about the nitty gritty work specifics for now. He had months of that to look forward to, and only a small moment with John before so. Might as well enjoy the moment to the fullest.

“Still want that walk?” John asked, taking Adam’s attention.

“Of course,” Adam smirked, trying to look more cheery. John rolled his shoulders, thinking. Perhaps he too was bothered by Zero’s appearance here, but he didn’t seem to show it.

“Alright, you know where it is,” John gruffed, then started walking outside, Adam in tow, “A few paces around, I guess?”

“Sure,” Adam pipped, walking near John, closer than what others would consider comfortable, others as opposed to them of course.

But as they continued down the street, Adam couldn’t help but look behind his shoulder.

Zero was still there, watching them, a blank look as his eyes stared.

Adam stared back, until a small crowd of busy city-goers passed between them, Zero seemingly blending into the mass. Even Adam’s quick and analytic eyes lost him amongst the people, passing him by like a flicker of a thought in his mind, before returning to walk alongside John.

 _Just enjoy the moment_ , Adam repeated to himself, looking back forward as John started to talk to him, tell him a cute little story about something that occurred to him the other day.

 _Because I’m not sure how much longer this can last_.


	2. Things Done Too Often

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and John depart again. One for Columbia, the other to stay. For now, at least.
> 
> Note: I made minor changes to the first chapter to allow for the flow of this one - just tiny things like time frames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is a pretty long chapter.
> 
> I couldn't really end it at a nice spot without everything, because I have a specific idea for the third one. GOSH
> 
> this fic might actually have longer chapters than The Temptation of ADAM.
> 
> HOPE YOU ALL LIKE READING

“Now this,” Adam spread his arms out, gesturing his hands out to the darkening sky, then back to John, “Is what fresh air is like.”

“Are you going to make that joke every time we step out of the apartment?” John tsked, catching up and walking beside him.

“Until you do something about the place,” Adam pouted, flicking John’s nose, “Yes.”

“It’s cleaner when you’re around anyway,” John complained, only light-heartedly as they circled a tree, following a neat path of concrete that winded between the park, illuminated only by a few lamps and the fading sunlight.

“One day I want to expect the apartment,” Adam wished, hands on his hips, “To be just like I left it.”

“That’s one thing I can’t promise,” John chuckled, bringing a hand up to rub Adam’s neck a little close to him, before dropping the arm immediately as they neared some other civilians.

“What _can_ you promise?” Adam shot him a challenging smirk, squinting his lash-filled eyes.

“Quite literally anything else. Maybe.”

“Not good enough.”

“You’re a difficult man to please,” John scolded.

“Well,” Adam let out a humored breath, a sinister smirk this time, “Not if you-”

“Adam,” John interrupted, putting hands to his hips exaggeratedly, “We’re in _public_.”

“Remind me to bring it up again when we’re not,” Adam teased, running a finger down John’s arm. He didn’t retract when others passed by.

John only looked sheepishly downward, biting back a smile. Adam reared his head into the sky again, a clear evening, only a few scattered clouds decorating the orange-blueness. The faint chipper of bird song flittering by one ear, coupled with the rising crickets, and the honks and clatters of the city life in the other.

It was nice - he felt content, listening instead to the clunk of his and John’s boots on the concrete, missing his signature clink of the spurs, but he could live with that for now.

“How long are you going to be gone for?” John asked, as he usually did around this time.

“I don’t know,” Adam murmured, softening his eyes, but kept his eyes on the path in front of him.

“Usually you do,” John pouted, side glancing him with his entire face turned, only because of his blind side being in the way.

“Sometimes,” Adam shrugged, watching a scruffy squirrel temporarily cross paths before diving up a tree, “I’d give it maybe eight to nine months.”

“That long?”

“I’ve been gone longer.”

“I’ve complained those times too,” John gruffed. His eye scrunched, the eyebrow above his eye patch following.

“I’ll be back,” Adam turned to face him as well, stopping his walk if only for a moment. _Probably_.

“I’d just like to know when,” John frowned, shifting his arms uncomfortably. He looked as if he were going to reach out to Adam, before dropping his arms entirely as another group of people passed.

It was Adam’s turn to frown. He understood, of course, their relationship kept as a secret. Adam’s entire life revolved around secrecy, working with in the field of spies.

But he was also proud, and Adam just wanted John to be a little braver in expressing their closeness. Then again, John was all about being hidden.

Adam sighed, continuing his walk, startling John to move forward again.

John was a little confused, all of a sudden. Adam was starting to look a little more twitchy, having more than just one thought on his mind, he could tell. Did he say something wrong?

“I mean,” John coughed, trying, “If you don’t know that’s fine.”

“Huh?” Adam looked curiously over.

“It’s your job,” John scratched his head, “You don’t have to tell me everything.”

“I always tell you everything,” Adam tilted his head before returning his attention to a bend around a corner of trees.

“I know,” John wasn’t sure where to go with this, “I guess.”

“Is something wrong?” Adam looked a little suspicious, glancing back at him.

“Is there?” John tried.

“What?” Adam was entirely confused, not at all understanding what John was asking, though John himself was unaware as well.

“You just,” John paused, blinking, “You looked like you got mad at me all of a sudden.”

Adam smirked, slowing his pace until he was level with John, fluttering his lashes.

“Well, now I’m not too sure,” John murmured, a steady snail’s gait as Adam took gloved hands to John’s cheek. He stopped to allow Adam a quick peck on the lips, before immediately pulling away almost a little too harshly as he heard footsteps coming closer.

Adam jerked his head around, two elderly friends chit chatting about their lives, walking by without a moment’s notice to them. Adam whirled back to John - there was the anger.

“Is this about-” John felt like he was stumbling, before Adam starting walking again.

“Six years, John,” Adam huffed, “I’m leaving in the morning for who knows how long, and this is the first time we’ve been ‘out’ in a while.”

“Damnit,” John grimaced, catching up to Adam’s quick pace with a curse to himself. He couldn’t help it - John was always a little more private, “Adamska.”

Adam slowed down, letting John closer, but kept narrowed eyes. His full name always caught his attention, John had found out.

“Sorry,” John tried apologizing, putting a braver hand on his shoulder, trying a closer face, “I’m just, not sure how this really works.”

Adam sighed, letting go of his small outbreak,

“Six years, I know,” John mumbled, “But we’re not with each other all the time.”

“Yeah,” Adam tsked, looking back out to the park, noticing that they had returned to their starting point, the lamps brighter as the sun had hidden itself. He shot another glance to John, “We should head back now.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” Adam tried a happy smile, patting John’s cheek before motioning back to the general direction of John’s building.

John followed as Adam led, despite it being John’s apartment. He watched the back of Adam’s head intently, wondering exactly what he was thinking. Sometimes it was difficult, the triple agent spy keeping his guard up a majority of the time. This being one of them.

But Adam was only feeling petty, feeling selfish, of all times. Maybe he just loved him too much.

They reached the building after a brisk walk, street slowly emptying, but only just as it was still a city. They entered the double doors, a brief wave to the receptionist at the counter, before heading back towards the stairway.

“I thought you wanted a few paces around,” John finally spoke up, if a little late for the comment, shuffling up the steps.

“I figured I should get a little more sleep,” Adam confessed, climbing the stairwell with quick soft patters of his boots, as opposed to John’s louder clomps. It was funny, if anything - Should John have been on a mission, he would have much nearer to silent.

As soon as they arrived, Adam fiddled with his pockets, taking out his keys.

“I’ll make something easy to eat tonight,” Adam explained, recalling whatever was left in John’s fridge. Restocked recently, a list always kept on the side to remind John of what he might have wanted to keep while Adam was gone. Most of the apartment was held together by Adam, at least nowadays.

“Maybe _I_ should make something this time,” John attempted, rubbing a hand down Adam’s back.

“You?” Adam grinned before returning to the door, unlocking it swiftly, “Can you make me some бефстроганов(Stroganoff)?”

“That’s easy,” John smirked, following Adam into the apartment, flickering on the lights, “Don’t you have faith in me?”

“Not when it comes to home,” Adam gestured to the apartment, raising a brow to John.

“I’ll see what I can do,” John settled, a tone of voice admitting to Adam’s suspicions before pulling him close and kissing his forehead.

“If you _want_ to do something fancier,” Adam teased.

“Ah, no, I think a stroganoff is okay for now,” John bit his lip, looking over to the stove.

“Right,” Adam smirked, kissing him back.

“Not mad at me then?” John murmured, looking at him with one eye.

“Never was,” Adam promised, running hands down his sides, looking sensually back at John.

“Good, because we’re alone now,” John hinted, breathing him in.

“Yeah? And?" Adam raised his brows, lips crinkling upward to a grin.

"You wanted me to remind you," John rumbled, lowering his arms and caressing Adam's hips, then even lower, "To tell me what pleases you?"

"Maybe," Adam mused, before tearing away and sitting down onto a chair next to him, swinging and folding his legs expectantly, “But I’m hungry.”

John made a cross between a grin and a smile, before shaking his head with a chuckle, facing the fridge and opening it. His face flashed a small bit of pondering.

“Cream’s in the side door,” Adam bit his glove, finding the scene in front of him humorous.

“Oh, yeah,” John coughed, reaching over and pulling out a recently opened carton, “This?”

Adam laughed, clapping his hands and leaning forward, resting his elbows onto his knees.

“You got it.”

* * * * *

Adam gasped, his skin glistening in the dim lighting, arms straining on either of John's sides.

"I was thinking," John clenched Adam's slow moving hips, looking up to him, "Maybe, we can, do something, more exciting."

"Exciting?" Adam uttered, biting his lips, opening one scrunched eye down to John's only eye.

"Y-yeah," John panted, scratching at Adam's skin, "I could, visit you? In.. South America."

"John.."

"I can pick you up," John murmured, Adam crumpling forward to hold his head, to hear his words as a whisper in the ear, "We can go out, into the forest."

"John."

"Spend our month just," John moaned a little, trailing fingers to the sides of Adam's abdomen that flexed as his muscles moved, "Exploring."

"John."

"Surviving in the, ah, wilderness," John returned his strong hands to Adam's hips, squeezing and guiding, “We can also spar, if you want."

"Oh, John," Adam nearly whimpered, sitting back up and tossing his head back, " _John_..."

John shuddered, clasping his fingers around Adam's hips with a sudden squeeze. A shock of ecstasy passed through him, into Adam, who tossed his head back down with a strangled gasp as he slowed the movements of his hips to a stop.

Adam collapsed forward, breathing into John's neck, who reciprocated with gentle kisses that traveled to his cheek, then to his lips.

"If you want," John repeated, a soft murmur between their embrace.

Adam sat back up, a grin as he composed himself, looking down to John below him.

"I'd love that," Adam admitted, pulling himself off of him and reaching for the strategically placed paper towels on the bedside table, "But I'm not sure if I have the time to stay in Columbia afterwards. The Philosophers usually like me reporting back to them here."

"You can ask," John helped himself to the roll passed over to him, tearing out a few sheets to wipe at Adam's mess on his chest while Adam cleaned below them.

"I will," Adam smiled, leaning forward and kissing John as he sat back up, arms wrapping around Adam protectively, "Do you really want to just hang out in the jungles of South America?"

"Couldn't hurt," John had an excited look in his eye that Adam missed, an adventurous look, while the other eye was exposed, a jagged tear of a sunken scar thanks to Adam, an aftermath of what happend during their last mission together, "It's been awhile since I've stretched my legs."

"Don't tell the Philosophers though," John scratched Adam's hair playfully, "Otherwise they might want to make me work."

"Of course," Adam hummed, giving John a long, well deserved kiss for their moment together.

"It's getting later than I'd like for the night," Adam hushed, pulling away after a while and laying down next to John on the bed, eyeing a clock nearby, "I can get at least a decent amount of hours of sleep at this point."

"When are you leaving?" John situated himself behind Adam, holding him with a nose nuzzling his neck.

"Flight's at 7AM, so I should get there at around, hmm," Adam took a hand to stroke John's cheek, close to his own, "Maybe 5:30AM at the airport to be early."

"Zero's going to pick me up around five," Adam turned his head around, kissing John on that cheek, “We agreed on that before when I said I was staying at the hotel nearby.”

"Wake me up?"

"Only if you want me to."

"I always do," John moved the kiss to his lips, tender and temporary.

“It’s only about eight, right now,” Adam sighed, closing his eyes without a wash of sleep overcoming him, “Not sure how I’m going to lay still until then.”

“I’ll just keep you company then.”

* * * * *

Adam awoke, easily, several minutes before the clock rang an alarm. Whenever he had to leave, he always managed to do that.

Making a small groan of discomfort and reluctance, he pulled himself to sit up, looking around to where his clothes were hastily tossed away the night before. Crumbled, just on top of John’s.

Adam tried to get out of the bed, but John’s heavy arms slowed him down, before officially holding him back.

“Ugh,” John grumbled into his pillow, “The alarm didn’t go off yet.”

“Alright, alright,” Adam grinned, slinking back under the covers to let John hold him closer, breathing a deep sigh into his neck.

“Five minutes,” John gruffed.

“It’s actually about,” Adam looked back to the clock, “Fourteen minutes.”

“Good.”

“I was thinking of getting an early head start to my morning routine, but,” Adam shrugged, facing John and watching his only good closed eye slowly open back, “This is fine too.”

“Maybe if you stay here Zero will forget,” John tried, looking tiredly at him.

“I doubt it,” Adam chuckled, settling into the cage of John’s arms.

But eventually the alarm rang it’s shrill bells, making John groan even louder in annoyance. Adam hushed him, smirking, before turning the alarm off, skidding out of bed and finding his pile of clothes.

Just the undergarments for now, the tank top and briefs, before looking awkwardly at another pile. This one folded, by a small sofa chair. Sighing, he grabbed that, before retreating into the bathroom for his routine as John slowly dragged himself out of bed.

By the time John managed to slump his way over to standing in the room, lazily pulling on his own clothes from last night, Adam had exited the bathroom, a fresh breath and cleaned up look. A little too clean.

John grinned widely, looking over his suit and tie, a simple outfit of grey cloth, fitted over him quite uncharacteristically. He wasn’t even wearing his cowboy boots, but rather a fancy pair of new dress shoes.

“What,” Adam demanded an answer, fiddling with the tie.

“Nothing,” John bit back a chuckle “Looks. Great. A little big, though, if it was a little smaller...”

“Zero doesn’t know my size,” Adam grumbled, tugging at the waistline that puffed out just a little too much, but it was passable at least, “What’s the time?”

“Ah,” John looked back into the room, “4:47.”

“I guess I should get down there,” Adam sighed, tugging a final time at his tie before walking into the living room, pulling out a black suitcase, containing his other uniforms, and his boots. Just in case.

“Why the suit, though?” John had to ask.

“I’m passing for a sort of 'politician' this time,” Adam frowned deeply, “Not much military spying going on.”

“How much do they know about you?”

“Well,” Adam hummed, “They know who I am, actually. But they don’t know my purpose. So far they think I’m just an envoy for the Philosophers, and I’m essentially there to supervise.”

“No gun spinning?” John teased, picking at the grey suit and fiddling with the collar.

“No,” Adam puffed, rolling his eyes, “Not going to be as fun this time around.”

“Alright,” John sighed, looking himself over, “Let me just, brush my teeth and wash up. I’ll follow you down.”

“Okay,” Adam murmured as he slid past him into the bathroom, listening to the rush of water.

He was quick, John, always finding a convenient way to do things, even if it left somewhat of a mess, as his apartment entailed. He left the bathroom with a kill of the switch, pulling on a light jacket against the cold that was soon to meet them of a brisk late-fall early-winter morning.

"Okay," John announced, taking Adam into his arms and kissing him strongly, yearningly, a tongue teased to taste him a final time, for now.

“Let’s go,” John mused as he pulled away, luring Adam's slightly dazed face from the sudden passion with him , though his voice reflected unwillingness. As did Adam’s footsteps, leading back out the door and towards the stairwell. Adam himself walked those stairs multiple times in his months with John, but the ‘last’ times were always the most hated.

When they reached the lobby, Zero, unfortunately, was waiting for them, standing up from a seat on an old couch.

“Ah, good morning Snake, Ocelot,” Zero greeted them, a quick bow of his head.

“Major,” John reciprocated, as did Adam.

“Ready to go?” Zero asked, pointing his hands out to the door, a black limousine waiting for Adam.

“Hmm,” Adam held up a finger to indicate a moment, and turned back to John, shrugging. He had hoped they would have a little more time to say goodbye. Perhaps they should have done so back in the apartment room, but these kinds of mornings were always a little scattered.

“I’ll let you know a good frequency when I settle in,” Adam promised, looking sweetly over to John, wanting to keep staring.

“I’ll try not to call that often,” John nodded, knowing the dangers of a constant communication. Over the years they always settled on perhaps one call a week, a quick checkup, to make sure the other was alright.

John then moved a tentative hand forward, looking brave, courageous, about to cup Adam’s face right in front of Zero with another heartfelt kiss.

“John,” Adam smirked, tearing away, whispering as soft as he could to avoid unwanted ears, “It makes me happy to see what you might be trying to do right now, but...”

He looked back to Zero, who only stared expectantly.

“Now’s really not the time, huh?” John rasped, looking up and back.

“You’re always right,” Adam consoled him, fluttering his lashes and giving him a final look of his smirk, “Some things we have to keep to ourselves.”

“Good luck out there,” John hushed, eyes soft as he initiated their ritualistic farewell, bringing up a rough hand instead of a usual kiss they shared, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” Adam responded, shaking the hand, putting up the friendly front for Zero to see, “Because I love you.”

“But I love you more,” John murmured, taking his hand away, giving him another soft glance and concluding the ritual, before returning a curt nod to Zero.

Adam faced Zero, lowering his head to indicate that he was ready before walking over.

“Goodbye Snake,” Zero spoke up, following Adam out the door.

“What were you two talking about?” Zero asked, merely curious as they left earshot.

“He was just wishing me luck,” Adam grinned, sitting into the open limousine a driver had held the door for, and sighing into the comfortable cushions that he hated, “Got a mission to do after all.”

“You didn’t tell him anything?” Zero questioned cautiously, sitting in the seat across from him.

“Of course not,” Adam lied, though what he was able to tell to John was only as much as he knew himself.

“Good,” Zero sighed, but something told Adam that he wasn’t believing his words. He took out a small briefcase to add to Adam’s own load, and handing it over to Adam, “Here are your mission notes and required information. The key to the lock is at San Hieronymo. You are the only one who can access it.”

“I know,” Adam took the case as the door closed, the driver moving to settle into the seat, and starting up the engine.

He looked out the window, catching John’s eye who stood near the building door, looking sad. Like he always did.

Adam looked back, watching as he drove away, before John disappeared from his sight. Like he always did.

* * * * *

John stood in his apartment, cold and lonely.

He grabbed a glass, running the tap and drinking some water. Adam told him to do that each morning.

He settled the glass onto the counter after it was spent, regarding it quietly. After a moment of hesitation, he rinsed it just a tad, before placing it back into the cupboard.

John sighed, wondering how long he could keep something up like that. It usually took half a month before John started to leave things lying around, not bothering to clean up.

Lost in his thoughts. Lost in his depression. Cold. Alone.

John shuffled back into his room, climbing achingly into the bed, ignoring the clenching of his head and his heart, ready to sleep the day away.

Like he always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(  
> fluff  
> and feels
> 
> my strong suit


	3. Peace Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of many reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot points plot points
> 
> gosh i had to research a bit to keep major points of PO in mind - shifting a little to fit the story better, since it's an AU obv, but ggghghhhh po y u so difficult

It was that damn phone call again, blaring through his unwilling ears that tore John out of bed. Out of the sheets that no longer smelled like Adam. That had gone away a few days after he had left.

John clambered into the living room, locating the phone and glaring at it, but he was even more unwilling to have to be face to face with anyone right now, unless it was _him_ , but that was very unlikely.

So he slammed a hand onto the phone and picked it up, rearing it to his ear with a frown.

“No,” He grumbled into the receiver.

“Snake,” was a scolding tone, Major Zero’s.

“No,” He repeated.

“I’m not calling about that.”

“You usually are,” John roughed, sitting down on his chair and rubbing his forehead. A quick look at the clock told him it was around 2PM. He hadn’t even managed to sleep past the afternoon.

“I’m just calling to say,” Zero sounded hesitant, “You’re a good friend of mine. Alright?”

“What?” John’s groggy mind was slowly waking, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m no longer going to be the one reaching out to you,” Zero paced his words.

“Well,” John felt a mixture of emotions. Relief, curiosity, a little concern, “Why?”

“Take care Snake,” Zero responded instead, a thumping sound hearing from the other line, “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Major,” John was awake, “What’s going on?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Perhaps when November rolls over,” The thumping was louder, hurried and searching, “You’ll be seeing your friend again, too. I know how much you miss him. He says to check the first drawer on your bed table.”

“Zero,” John stood up, listening instead to the thumps turn into pounding, knocks on a door. Muffled shouts, “ _What’s going on?!_ ”

“Peace,” Zero stated, before the sound of a door had swung open forcefully, slamming upon a wall.

“Hello, officers,” His voice sounded farther from the phone, before he hung up with a clamber.

John listened to the tone for a few moments, before hanging up himself.

November? His friend? Peace?

John didn’t feel like sleeping anymore, instead looking to a scruffed up calendar. He cursed himself, remembering Adam’s attempt to get him more organized with it. John couldn’t remember what day it was anymore.

He knew it had been 32 days since Adam left. Adam left at 4:56 in the morning, day 29 of the month of September. 32 days from the 29th.

John stepped forward, ripping off the September month and scanning the weeks, landing on the last week of October. The 31st. Today was the 31st.

John frowned, suddenly feeling bad as he remembered not having provided any treats for the children who would soon come around.

But he shouldn’t focus on that now, instead remembering the foreboding way Zero seemed to deliver his news.

November was only a day away, did he mean later in the month, or tomorrow?

He didn’t want to think this much about an interruption to his sleep, so John let out a deep groan, suddenly being aware of his presence in the apartment. It was cold, the dial untouched since 32 days ago.

It was also empty, since 32 days ago.

So he just shivered, not even bothering to change anything. If he had to deal with anything right now, it would have to wait till tomorrow when the new month came along.

Or when he would next wake up, at the very least. John shuffled back into his room, catching view of the bed, his second favorite companion, and falling into it’s blankety arms for comfort.

It was starting to smell a little off, not having been changed since 41 days ago, but John kept hoping he could still get a quick scent from the fabric - of course it wasn’t there.

Starting to feel sick, John reared back up, worrying about Zero’s call. Still tousling his thoughts about what kind of cryptic meaning he might have had. What were those thumps, those footsteps it sounded like. Officers, was Zero being detained?

November. Peace. His friend.

First drawer on his bed table.

John looked down, knowing without a skip who Zero meant, but without knowing why Zero would know to mention him.

He leaned over, touching the cold handle of the table, and pulling at it cautiously, listening to the dull skidder of wood on wood.

There was a bag in there, simple, clear, and full of even smaller bags wrapped around neat brightly colored sweats.

Smiling a small bit, John took the bag into his hands, a decent amount considering the few number of kids that resided in the area, but an amount nonetheless.

He turned it over, looking at each piece and silently coding into his mind what colors meant which flavor when saw a note carefully and neatly taped onto the side.

 _Not when it comes to home_ was the neat scribble.

John felt rejuvenated, turning the note over when he saw the hints of another scribble that faded through from the other side.

 _Yes, you **can** eat the leftovers_ next to a tiny mark of a heart.

With a tear of the note from the package, sticking it onto his lamp on the same table, John got up from his second favorite companion under the wishes of his first, walking to the kitchen to find a decent sized bowl.

The candies clattered into the ceramic, a nice array of different colors to suit the different hands soon to grab them. Not being one to discriminate, John’s own hand grabbed one at random, tearing the wrapper off of it and popping it into the mouth.

The refreshing fruity taste helped him dump the wrapper not on the floor, but rather the bin as he came near it, opening the door close by and placing the bowl at the foot of it. Sighing, he yanked a piece of paper and pen by the key table and adding his own scribble to replace Adam’s.

 _Happy Halloween_ , he wrote, taping it on the door just above the bowl, before closing it, a farewell until tomorrow morning. He would remember, probably.

 _See him again soon, huh?_ John thought to himself, a flutter of excitement in his heart. Maybe Adam had gotten around to asking the Philosophers about staying over, but John had thought such an occurrence would not be reached until at least another half of a year.

Maybe Adam had an early leave, his mission being that successful? John should have asked more questions, but at the time he didn’t want to have anything to do with any missions _they_ had a part in. Then again, it was Adam. So he should have asked.

If Zero’s words had any promise to them, surely everything would turn out for the best.

But it weren’t the words that worried him, tearing down John’s fluttering as he recalled the tight, forcefully polite last words over the phone, the hurried footsteps before a slam of a door opening.

There was something there between he, Zero, and Adam that didn’t connect in John’s mind.

He reached a hand over, finding his codec carefully placed within reach of the bed, in case Adam ever called, the last being three days and 16 hours from now.

It was a new frequency each time, Adam promising to give him a heads up each week - but it left John with no control on his own end, relying solely on Adam sending his greetings, making him worry each week when he figured Adam should have called by then.

Their talks were always quick, short-lived, reassuring only to the slightest. Adam always sounded busy, curt, even more so than the other six years, stacking up the uncomfortable feeling in John’s heart.

But he knew there was still something there, if Zero delivered his message.

John slumped back into bed, putting the codec back into it’s convenient place, closing his eyes with a sigh. Just waiting, this time.

* * * * *

Adam fiddled with the codec hidden under the jacket of his god damned suit, debating with himself to find a private area for a quick chat. But, all things considered, he was far too busy at the moment.

By now Zero must have contacted John, after saying his farewells and good wishes to Adam’s mission in San Hieronymo. It was a mess - one idea in mind, but all these figures dancing about the grounds could not be very reliable.

Zero must have gone into hiding by now, the FOX unit now under suspicions by the Philosophers, but of course entirely being planned by the Philosophers.

Or, perhaps, at least just one of them.

Adam figured he would try and get more details from Zero before he disappeared, but there was little to be shared other than Adam’s wishes for John. He wondered what Zero would do now, after the mess they were starting over in Columbia.

He stopped his twitching hand on the codec, instead looking solemnly out over the grounds, watching the soldiers patrol around under commands. He was reminded again of Tselinoyarsk, the one mission that truly started this all, at least for Adam.

Here he was, standing on a railing, radiating importance and secrecy, a figure to be looked up to, a place much higher than just “Major Ocelot”.

The only thing missing was the clink of his spurs, and the cold feel of dual revolvers twirling in his hands. His neck was also a little cold.

At least he had one revolver, nestled behind him under the slightly large suit, giving the size one redeeming factor. If anything happened that would endanger his place here, he had something to rely on, if not anyone here. For now.

Otherwise the busy soldiers went about their day listening to the hypnotizing Voice.

Adam grinned to himself, a revived pride in not falling for lure of the Voice. It was appealing, to be certain, but Adam had someone else in mind, always.

He’d give him the Halloween evening, hopefully he was able to put out the candy, but in the morning, Adam had a surprise for him. It would be a little rough, perhaps, and as much as Adam loved him, he knew it was time to get John back into the saddle.

She wanted peace. He wanted peace.

And they were going to get it.

* * * * *

John woke, silently, disturbed as blackness greeted his eyes.

One eye started to shift under the haze, straining to accept any reflected beams, while the other remained dark. Missing.

John slowly arched his back, getting up from bed and listening to the creak that didn’t belong to him.

His eye caught sight of a dim lamp light shedding beams over panels of white text, displaying the time 3:36 in the morning.

He frowned, straining again to listen to more creaks against the overly-quiet room.

 _Shit_ , John cursed to himself, wondering where in the fucking mess of his apartment lay a defensive weapon. A table near him may have contained a knife at one point, but for the moment it was too dark to scramble blindly, and the usually-closed window blew chilling airs that started to freeze at John’s now aching joints.

He took a chance, swiftly jolting over to the table.

A flash of light hair shone from one of the lamp beams, flashing towards him.

For a moment John thought it was Adam, before acknowledging the hair color to be white, another familiar face, juvenile almost, underneath a furrowed brow that twisted behind him and tore his grasp away from the empty knife-less table.

John was yanked upward from his bed, an arm to his back as wet cloth pressed at his mouth.

He choked, tossing his other arm against the surprisingly strong ones caging him.

“Shh,” Was a voice in his ear, before the damp cloth started to overcome John, drooping his lid down, laxing his muscles.

It went black again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUNNNNNNNNN  
> you're that ninja


	4. What is Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene and Adam bicker, and then Adam and John (but not really bickering)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being late!! aaaa here we gooo

“Ocelot!” The soothing Voice called, turning Adam’s attention towards him. There stood the “Fox Commander”, watching Adam with curious and respectful eyes as he entered the office Adam took place in, fiddling with menial papers.

“The one you’ve called for has been obtained,” His name was Gene, lowering his head in acknowledgment of Adam’s higher position to him.

“Good,” Adam drolled, trying not to let his smirk show the glee he was feeling. Multiple reasons for that glee were currently taking hold of him - but he stifled it all with a curt nod, a surface grin, and tight shoulders.

“Cunningham is on his way to him right now,” Gene slurred through his words, narrowing his eyes. He was quite the handsome man, Adam had to admit. It only added to the way his Voice seemed to caress him, lighten his steps, but Adam had far more important matters to pay attention to. Their new “prisoner” being at the top of the list.

That being said, _Cunningham_ being the interrogator made Adam hide his frown, his concern. He didn’t want his prisoner tortured in any way, but Gene and his followers expected it, given the information Adam allowed them.

Adam, Ocelot, the Philosopher “envoy” to oversee the operations in Columbia. The staging of this rebellion under his hand. Just another mission for a triple agent.

And the man who killed The Boss.

“Doesn’t it make you, upset?” Gene turned his slow gaze to Adam, “Having him. Tortured.”

“Why do you ask?” Adam frowned, staring him down.

“I heard you two had quite the mission together,” Gene merely stated, looking away, “In Tselinoyarsk.”

“And?”

“Comrades,” Gene straightened his back, folding arms behind him and returning a gaze to Adam, “And all that.”

“Does it not bother you?”

“No,” Adam delivered the lie with a scoff, avoiding Gene’s piercing eyes and picking up a piece of paper, shielding himself by reading the text of orders to give out, “It was a mission. Nothing more.”

“But are we not soldiers for each other?” Gene’s questioning was becoming unnerving, the Voice tickling his neck, “And not the mission?”

“Are we?” Adam grinned, turning the aggression back to Gene. Gene who used his Voice. Gene who _commanded_.

“That’s what I’m asking,” Gene narrowed his eyes, refusing to back down.

“Of all ‘soldiers’ to answer this to,” Adam sighed, returning to his papers, rereading the same line, “To you it would mean little.”

“Try me.”

Adam fluttered his lashes up to the man again, making a small grimace that hid under a smile.

“Alright,” Adam leaned back into his chair, tipping fingers against fingers, empty of the gloves he liked.

“It was a mission, but we were friends,” Adam admitted only that, “And, as you know, our goal of the Legacy, we only retrieved-”

“Only half,” Gene frowned, wondering what Adam was getting at.

“Right,” Adam lowered his head, “Exactly. And _I_ didn’t keep the other half.”

“And _he_ must have, or so we are led to believe,” Gene’s brain slowly clicked away.

“If soldiers are for soldiers,” Adam tried playing with Gene’s beliefs, “Why hide from one another?”

“So you felt betrayed, is that it?” Gene got to the point.

“Perhaps,” Adam lied, sitting more relaxed, “We’ll find out.”

“Hmm,” Gene rumbled, his Voice trickling through, “You know..”

“People listen to me for the power in my words,” Gene explained, steady eyes focusing on Adam, “Where does that power come from?”

“Enlighten me,” Adam rolled his eyes.

“Because I understand,” Gene’s words danced upon his tongue, scrutinizing Adam, “I know the source of air in a soldier’s lungs, what draws them to the field of battle, and that’s why they listen.”

“They listen to hear someone speak their mind, speak what they believe in, what they believe in themselves,” Gene droned on, losing Adam in their wish for the future - in that was Adam’s resistance to the Voice, “So we can fight for a soldier’s paradise.”

“How can you say that it means little to me,” Gene sounded almost condescending, the Voice faltering, “That you feel betrayed?”

“Because it’s a drop,” Adam didn’t feel like arguing, he just wanted the nosy Gene out of his office, away from him as he kept whispering about the lures of paradise.

“A drop?”

“A mere speck,” Adam played to Gene’s hidden egoism, what soared over his Voice and created the tyranny of it, “That blends into the mass of your wishes.”

“But it is _our_ wish for paradise, is it not?” Gene took a step forward, pressing with his Voice.

“My wish,” Adam frowned, “Is peace.”

“Peace,” Gene calmed, softened eyes in a low mutter, “What peace is there in war? In a soldier’s paradise?”

“Or in the steel hands of a dictator?” Adam’s mouth cornered into a grin.

“The Philosophers?” Gene narrowed his eyes.

Adam returned the look, staring right at him, “Them too.”

“You’re a man of refined taste,” Gene bowed his head, “My apologies if I’ve persisted too much. I was merely curious.”

“You, so willing to deter from the ones who’ve raised you,” Gene continued, “And join us for our rebellion because you too have suffered at their hands. For that we welcome you into our brotherhood for paradise.”

“Hmm,” Adam watched as the flicker of greed flashed over Gene’s eyes before he straightened up.

“I’ll see to it that Big Boss suffers ten fold for his betrayal,” Gene announced making Adam cringe in a held back anger.

“No,” Adam shook his head pointedly.

“No?” Gene only looked confused

“No,” Adam repeated.

“But he made the selfish choice of betrayal,” Gene argued, suspicions returning, “To dare seek personal gain against both the mission, and _you_.”

“An empty assumption,” Adam growled, hating the way Gene tossed about the false rumors so believably, “What peace can we achieve if we cause more suffering in a comrade?”

“Peace,” Gene mouthed the word as a foreign object, another scrunch of the brow, before looking back up, “So you do still see him as a friend.”

Adam didn’t answer, sinking back into his chair with narrowed distasteful eyes.

“I apologize again,” Gene backed away until his back reached the doorway, “But we must find out the truth from him.”

“Do as you will,” Adam had to settle for that, his purpose in danger, “But I want no word of anything broken, or another corpse.” _God forbid_.

“What of a broken will?”

“You’ll not find that in him,” Adam hummed, noticing the disbelief in Gene.

“We’ll find out,” He repeated Adam’s own words to him almost maliciously, before departing, a swish of his coat waving a farewell.

Adam grimaced uncomfortably, feeling the air of the room lighten from the burden of Gene’s presence, but the overhanging reality sunk in to replace it.

Adam wondered how far into the torture Cunningham had gotten to at this point while he had babbled on with Gene.

He wanted desperately to run out and find him, find John, make sure he was safe… but the mission was far too deep to turn around now, as much as it pained him.

John needed to pull through this, to help Adam bring about The Boss’ wish, his mother’s wish. To pull through even now, with Gene’s growing suspicions of what purpose Adam served other than a co-conspirator against the Philosophers with the insider information - as always.

Here he was, believed by the Philosophers to spy for them on the FOX rebellion, yet actually working for the rebellion, all while at the same time following his own personal goals.

And that mysterious person who left behind these papers on his desk. Always with a locked package that Adam had the only key to, delivered safely to his room.

It couldn’t be the Philosophers, obviously. Adam himself had a few clues, a few hints, a few ideas… but at the current moment it mattered little, as long as the information kept coming.

So Adam left it to fate, for now, in the name of his insurance policy.

He took a hand to the codec under his jacket, wondering how he could get in contact with John, as most previous frequencies used have since passed their security “expiration”. If he should even reach out, in case a conversation discovered would mess up their chances at reaching what Adam had wanted since those six years ago.

But most of all, he wanted to hear John’s voice.

So taking a chance, he set his codec carefully, dialing up the set of numbers most remembered, and hoped for the best.

* * * * *

John cursed to himself, hanging up the radio in the control tower, running through the information granted to him by his old friends Sigint and Para-medic. Worry for his old unit, and anger against them, in particular to this mysterious person Gene he had been told about. Worry for Zero.

Here he was, battered against the man named Cunningham’s torture, but still charged from the ordeal. John wanted nothing to do with any sort of mission up until this point, yet he’s stuck. In Columbia.

John returned to the radio, chancing once more at the frequency last used to contact him, the first person John tried to call, but was yet again responded with the static of a lack of an answer. Feeling a falling in his chest, he threw the radio down again. John knew he was somewhere in the same area, he had to have been, but John couldn’t afford to go around on a wild goose chase without a smidgen of an idea of the exact location.

And he had a newer friend to get back to - perhaps together they could find a way out of this mess and resolve things. Bring about justice, as it were.

Though John was still longing - it had been 34 days since he left John, and each day dragged more and more out of him, as did the other years, yet knowing that he so close. Perhaps under the same exact mission as John. Or…

What could he be doing here then? What details did he neglect to tell John?

It was an uncomfortable stir in the pit of his stomach, hating to feel suspicion against him.

Adam.

Adamska.

No, John had nothing but trust in Adam. So much trust.

So he took another hand to the radio, staring longingly at the dials and buttons. Wondering if he could try...

He pressed them carefully, one number at a time. 1. 4. 5. 4. 5.

He sent the call.

Static, crackles, pauses, and then silence, before a small flutter of a noise.

Not the deafening non-response tone, but the soft and slow reverberation of a breath.

“John?”

He would have crumbled right then and there, if it weren’t for the hand gripping at the radio, clinging to the one hope.

“Adam.”

“What chance would have it, huh?” Adam’s voice wavered, with glee, or sadness, John didn’t know, “But I knew you’d find the right one.”

“Where,” John didn’t know where to start, taking deep, painful breaths, “Why… what are..”

“John,” Adam interrupted, “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“You didn’t,” John still couldn’t find his words, “...Did you…”

“I never wanted you to be hurt, John,” Adam’s voice was strained, as if through gritted teeth, “That’s why you’re here. Why we’re here.”

“Adam..”

“As for the more recent pains, I’ll get Cunningham later for what he might have done to you,” Adam hissed, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” John shook his head, swallowing as sweat built under his hand, “But.. Adam.”

“John.”

“Why are you here?”

“How much do you know?”

That was it, John sank into the machine. It meant Adam hid from John, didn’t it? That Adam knew something he refused to share.

“I know about the FOX rebellion. Gene. That we, myself, and my friends at FOX, are put to blame,” John almost couldn’t stop the rising anger in his voice, “For this uprising.”

“And I have to make things right,” John nearly spat, furious at being stuck in another mission, seemingly saving the Philosophers from the now rogue FOX.

“Are you mad at me?” Adam’s voice was smaller.

“I,” John blinked, shrinking himself in response, “No. no I-. I’m just.. Why are you here too?”

“John,” Adam put strength back into his voice, “I want you to do what you think is right.”

“That’s not answering my question,” John’s mouth was a tight line, “Why are you here?”

“Fight back Gene, stop this ‘rebellion’.”

“Why are you here?”

“Help us bring an end to everything.”

“Why are you _here_?”

“Help me bring peace.”

“ _Why are you_ -”

John stopped, understanding.

“Peace?”

“Yes John,” Adam sighed slowly, “Peace. For the both of us. For the world.”

“Adamska,” John frowned, his heart swelling, “That’s… That’s impossible.”

“Keep moving forward, John,” Adam was almost lecturing, “Instead of sitting around in a decaying apartment.”

“I said I’d do something about that,” John grumbled, which caused a laugh, musical and sweet, from Adam.

“Please, John,” Adam hummed, “I know we can do this, that _you_ can do this. It’s too much for me to explain over the codec.”

“Then where are you?”

“Main building,” Adam almost sounded bragging, “Fancy office I have for myself.”

“Still a ‘Philosopher’s Envoy’?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have a lot of explaining to do, _sir_ ,” John teased, “Tell me which room.”

“I can’t do that,” Adam sounded humored, “You’re the evil escaped prisoner. Besides, I’m not here all the time.”

“You owe me a jungle vacation.”

“Room 6-B, North wing. Happy now?” Adam’s voice resonated with affection, “Just don’t pop in without a notice. I’ve still got a job to do, as do you.”

“Redeem yourself and your friends, John,” Adam wished, “I’ll be waiting.”

“And trust me, alright? If not anyone else.”

“I do,” John promised, “I always have.”

“Good to hear,” Adam made a faint noise of puckered lips over the codec, “Now get out there, John. You know how to reach me.”

“I’ll keep in touch, Adam,” John mused, before sharing a ‘bye’, and hanging up.

John sighed, standing up and feeling a little happier, content, satisfied with just the sound of Adam’s voice as it calmed him. Maybe Adam had a point - maybe peace could be reached. It was a large burden to try and bear… but it was Adam.

So he turned around, setting carefully out of the radio tower to make his first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some plot device and a smidgen of fluff :) still figuring out a majority of the plot, so it's a liiiittllee tiny bit slow
> 
> I think the next chapter will be a bit meatier, but we'll see!


	5. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gathering of clarity between our two favorites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got quite a lotta guff to get throughhh, but the ext one we got a feW NEW BUDDIES TO MEET
> 
> Edit: Fixed, changed, and added a few things

“It always has to be nukes, doesn’t it?” John growled to himself, handing the papers back over to his new accomplice Campbell.

“Now, Snake,” Campbell grimaced, scanning the forms again, “It might not be nukes.”

“What else could it be?” John rolled his shoulders, tensing against muscles still a little unused to the labor endured, “A launch plan for what?”

“For the new weapon,” Roy repeated, still with an unsettling frown, “The one they stole.. Agh, we need more than this.”

“Hmph,” John thought quickly with a slow eye, “They’re in the middle of negotiations with Washington and Moscow, I’ve heard. Even assuming this launch plan is real, it’s got to be a bluff to strengthen their hand.”

“Maybe,” Campell straightened his back, shuffling the papers away, “But… they exterminated us Green Berets, comrades, without mercy or remorse.”

“Fact is that there’s something going on with these plans,” He shook his head, “Maybe I’m worrying too much, but it seems like they’re serious.”

“What could this weapon be?” John wondered aloud, “It sounds like it could ignite a global crisis, from these plans.”

“Maybe it is an nuke,” Campbell reasoned, putting hands over his mouth and looking dead John’s eye, “Boss-”

“Ahem.”

“Snake,” He corrected himself, “Until we have a clearer picture of what’s going on here, I think we should assume the worst. Better to overreact now and laugh about it later than ignore this and live to regret it.”

“Can’t argue with that,” John settled, but a curiosity continued to nag at him. He wanted to give a call to his special little insider, question him a little further, but whenever John managed to snag a conversation… Adam was always busy.

It almost seemed as though he was the one running the entire thing.

But John felt like he could give him a little more credit of trust. Adam was just… a supervisor. The Philosopher’s Envoy, a “spy” for the FOX rebellion. It wasn’t like Adam could be pulling the actual strings.

So John could afford to question him, besides, Adam wouldn’t hide anything from him.

Yet it struggled with John, all the information learned throughout the mission so far was from his own and Roy Campbell’s hands, scratching for any nugget of info. Adam hadn’t mentioned the weapon, the launch plans, the threats to Russia, which John thought Adam would have at least hinted towards.

All he talked of was peace. Even if peace was a sweet word on both of their tongues… The lack of communication frightened John.

“Right now,” Roy brought John out of his thoughts, “We’re the only ones on this peninsula in a position to stop these guys.”

“We don’t have to be,” John narrowed his eye, looking up to Campbell, “We can’t do this alone.”

“You’re right,” Campbell paused, looking outside the truck, “Snake.. When you were listening in on the enemy, did you get the feeling that maybe.. Not everyone was happy about their commander?”

“Some of them were griping about it,” This intrigued John.

“How hard do you think it would be to recruit some of those soldiers,” Campbell flashed a grin, “Over to our side?”

It was a relief that John didn’t have to propose that suggestion himself.

“Recruit them?”

“Exactly! We can persuade them against their leader using any grievances they have,” Campbell seemed excited, scooting in his seat, “Sowing discord amongst the enemy has been a basic element of psychological warfare since the time of Confucius.”

“Play our cards right, and we might be able to find out what’s really going on!” Campbell had a wide smile, looking for Big Boss’ approval. It twitched uncomfortably for John, but idea was a good one.

“What do you think, Snake?”

“Worth a shot.”

“Great!” Campbell breathed, biting his lip in thought, “I guess… You can start going out now. See if you can grab anyone and drag ‘em back to the truck for a friendly chat.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to make is kind of move,” John admitted, standing up and facing the truck exit, “I’ll see I can get anyone.” He hid a smile, a plan.

But that could wait for now, first thing was to build up his own little army. It's too early along the line for a jungle vacation, anyway. He still had his unanswered questions otherwise.

* * * * *

“The Legendary Soldier?” The man in front of him gasped, curious eyes hidden behind his goggles. Despite the stabs of pain in John’s heart for having to bring _her_ up, he knew he was getting somewhere.

“Then, Snake…” The man was in awe, “You must be…Big Boss.”

John frowned.

“You’re the hero who killed Colonel Volgin at Groznyj Grad!” He laxed his body, lowering his guard and hostility.

“Prove your loyalty as a soldier,” John rumbled, “That’s what The Boss told me. I still don’t know what she meant.” It was true, mixed in with his current situation of defending himself and his unit from the very commander of said unit… Yet dreading each moment of his efforts to “save” the Philosophers as well. Was that what it was to be a soldier?”

She may have told him to prove his loyalty, but she also told him to find peace.

And that’s what Adam promised him. Or so he hoped.

“Prove your loyalty,” The man repeated, taking his goggles off, looking down in respect as the words tickled his tongue, “Not to justice. Not to your country,” John looked up, curious, interested in the man’s words.

“But to yourself.”

John didn’t say anything, the man’s words repeating in his mind as he returned a stare back to burning a hole into the floor.

“Does Gene truly plan to threaten the motherland?” The man’s voice wavered not with uncertainty, but with a rush of strength.

“Yes,” Roy responded, taking a step nearer, seeing the chance they had, “Snake procured documents from a patrol station that confirm as much. If launched from this base, the weapon Gene stole could deliver a devastating blow to _every_ major city in Russia.”

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Campell pressed, looking for the man to look back up.

“No,” He straightened, facing forward. Facing John, “I believe you.”

“Not as a member of the Red Army, but as a soldier.”

John looked up from the floor, revitalized from the feeling of trust and hope thrown his way from the man they captured.

“I appreciate it,” John murmured, and straightened up as the man walked over, clasping a rough hand into rough hand for a shake.

“I will follow you,” The man determined, a set line of a mouth.

“Snake. Give me my mission.”

* * * * *

Adam kicked his door open, infuriated. This was going well, too well. For Gene.

Adam didn’t have to be this mad, in fact whatever caused this much anger towards his enemy was welcome, but it was a little too suspicious. Gene was acting strangely, more independent, and that was something neither Adam nor his conspirator wanted.

He searched his desk for any more intel from said conspirator, relieved to find another package on top.

But it was off, neat and perpendicular instead of the normally crooked placement the mail person usually delivered it as. Now that he thought about it, Adam’s door had been slightly opened, swinging easily to his assault as opposed to the usual effort Adam had to make with his boot.

Sloppy, sloppy work. Adam scowled, figuring it wasn’t a spy, otherwise the package itself would be missing. Who else would have the nerve to walk into Adam’s office and fiddle with his things other than the Voice himself?

At least Gene had the decency to not ransack the area, merely displaying his nosy curiosity, but that in itself added to Adam's anger.

He couldn't even confront Gene, whom likely would just wonder why Adam was being so defensive of information he had to "share" anyway, or so Gene thought.

Adam ripped the package open, squinting eyes at the neat cursive that greeted, instructed, informed. Negotiations made, safe to go.

More and more suggestions, clogging Adam's mind until he suddenly realized the call of his codec.

Not knowing how long it was going on for, and almost not caring, he yanked it out, answering with still an eye to his papers.

"This is Ocelot," Adam hissed, still furiously glaring at the intel.

"Well, this is Snake," The voice responded back, low and a little rumbly.

"John," Adam snapped his attention, feeling bad for the anger that was on his voice, "Sorry, ah, I'm a bit busy."

"Just checking in."

"Okay, hi," Adam sounded a little dismissive, making John feel a little nervous. He looked back, wondering if any of his new recruits would come bother them any moment.

"I've gotten wind of the launch plans."

"Yeah."

"Gene really plans on nuking Russia?"

"Mhm."

"We're all in danger, isn't that something?"

"That's great, John."

"Adam."

"Yeah."

"Adam."

"Wh," Adam coughed into the codec, tearing eyes from his papers, "John?"

He heard a sigh from the codec, "Still busy?"

"Sorry, John, really," Adam grumbled, shoving the papers aside and trying to pay attention, "I've just got a bunch of orders, the soldiers are starting to lose interest, Gene is taking front hand command-"

"What kind of orders?"

"It's too much for me to explain over codec," Adam inhaled, rubbing his temples.

"You keep saying that," John murmured, feeling like a neglected puppy.

"It is, John," Adam's voice was strained, anxious, "And I've got a meeting over comm with the Philosophers where I have to lie through my teeth again, which I'm good at. But for _them_ I'm sick of it. Not to mention-"

"Sorry to bother you, then," John cut him off, feeling strangely upset, "I'll let you go now."

"Okay, sure," Adam sighed again, no sweet apology, no cute exchange of words, just low breaths into the codec.

"I'll call you," John muttered, listening to the half-hearted 'alright, I'll be waiting', before hanging up.

He was just tired. A little overworked. That was it.

John frowned, sitting down and feeling very foolish for bothering Adam as he tried to do whatever he was doing. John figured Adam would eventually tell him everything, of course he would. He usually did, anyway.

Then the codec rang again, from Adam. Curious, he answered.

"John," was Adam's quick response, "Sorry, I know I seem a little distant lately."

"You're busy," John reasoned, swallowing, "I get that."

"John, really, I don't want to be. I will explain everything to you, okay?" Adam sighed again, a little too much lately, "Just later.. I don't have the time now to."

"It's okay," He felt relieved, if only a little bit, "I know you will."

"Alright, I don't want you to think I'm," Adam paused, "Ignoring you, or leaving you out.."

That was exactly how John felt, "I understand, it's okay."

"You know I love you."

"I know," John smiled a silly crooked smile, "I love you too."

"Sappy," Adam's comment was humored, more affectionate, more appeasing to John's nerves, "Bye."

They ended the call again, on a happier note, John was satisfied to say.

John knew now, turning around to walk back to the truck after his smoke break, and tossing away the hardly used leftovers.

Thinking a little bit, John went and picked it back up, sure to dispose of it more discreetly.

As for the rest of his plans, John could work it out with Campbell. Now, he wanted to focus a little more on his poor Adam. He just needed a break, that was all.

* * * * *

Adam sat there, head in his hands, cursing to himself a few times too many.

He felt bad, real bad, and it didn't help that he had to talk to the people he hated in a few more minutes.

Casual lies of reassurance to the director, to be on their good side. Adam had "always been loyal to their cause" anyway.

They just needed to keep playing along. Adam had a lot of work to do for the ball to start rolling.

The main problem was keeping a careful eye on those around him, particularily Gene. He was getting nosier, and his Voice seemed ever more powerful by the day. Soldiers seemed to pass by Adam more often to just glamor at Gene, which he detested.

Though in fact, it almost even seemed as though a few soldiers passed over Gene as well, a strange occurence that was recent. As much as that tickled Adam, he didn't approve - like it or not, Adam needed the charisma of the FOX commander.

Was he upset over all of this? Worried, stressed?

Excited?

Adam smiled, letting go of all of his thoughts at once and eyeing the deliciously deadly words on his papers. A few things to test, a few people to toss about... And a few old friends to see again.

Adam had to leave the premise eventually, his next step being the most juicy of all. Once the matters here with Gene were _dealt_ with, then John and Adam could finally go off on their own.

Hopefully the people left behind could handle things without him. Hopefully John could as well, but that he had no doubts over.

Adam leaned into his chair, wondering how long it would take for the preparations of their new toy to be complete. Was Gene serious? Maybe. Adam?

He'll stew on that question for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wwhhhUHOH


	6. ESP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little clarity takes a long step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope what I'm trying to subtly hint at in this chapter is subtle enough :))

“What’s his status?”

“We’re currently reinitializing his memory,” A scientist reported, nervously reading from a list, “And readjusting his sensory nerves in the culture tank.”

“By my estimate it’ll take,” The scientist tapped his chin with a pen as they walked, squinting up at the air, “Another twelve hours. At least.”

“Half a day?” Cunningham growled, his cane thumping loudly against the pavement, “If he has to be readjusted after each deployment, he’s not much better than a prototype. A test subject.”

Adam rolled his eyes, pacing himself along the other side of the scientist, clearly making the man uncomfortable as the two men seemed to corner him, all while they kept moving forward.

“My apologies, sir,” The scientist gulped, “The culture fluid takes time to.. prepare.”

“With such limited equipment and personnel, readjusting _Null_ isn’t-”

“I know,” Cunningham rumbled, turning a cold glare over the man, “That’s why I brought along a specialist.”

“The chief?” The scientist was confused, “But-”

“The escaped prisoners have yet to be found,” Cunningham interrupted him, narrowing Adam’s eyes to maintain a focused stare ahead, “This could be just the job for our Perfect Soldier.”

“Must it?” Adam interrupted, rolling out his words as the other members turned his way. He was far younger than the rest of them, other than of course the younger girl behind him, whom had stopped her steady walk. Her tight mouth and rigid composure more than made up for her age, exemplified by the silent stand.

“Why not?” Cunningham slurred, grumbling in his stumbled gait, turning around to see the rest of his party stand still.

“Twelve hours,” Adam merely stated, finding excuses at this point, “What could our dear friend accomplish within twelve hours, I wonder?”

“Missing soldiers, important files I’ve ordered to keep under a careful watch,” Adam delivered that with a grit of his teeth, narrowing long lashes back at Cunningham to remind him of who was in charge, “And you want to sit around and play with your toys.”

“I didn’t plan on just using Null,” Cunningham spat back, but shied from the pale blue ice of Adam’s eyes, “Of course we’ll keep an eye out.”

“But once he’s ready, if we haven’t already caught him,” He shot another look to Adam, “Then we’ll roll out the tank as soon as the fluid’s stabilized.”

Adam couldn’t argue, lest raise questions on his reluctance.

“Make all necessary preparations,” Cunningham continued, to which the scientist nodded sharply, before Cunningham turned a frown to Adam, “Happy? _Sir_?”

Adam ignored him, instead looking curiously at the way Gene and the girl straightened themselves. The back of his neck prickled.

“Commander,” The girl hummed, opening her eyes and facing Gene.

“Yes, I know,” He responded, “Cunningham.”

“Don’t move.”

“Huh?” Cunningham uttered, as Adam himself shivered only the slightest before the loud screech of metal scratching emitted over them. A loud crash, crunch of wood and steel before the shatter of a scream.

Debris began falling in front of them, Adam hardly flinching with wide eyes, on Gene and the girl, before turning back to face the mess of failed building crumbled on the floor, the workers teetering dangerously over the edge at their fault, before steadying.

“Commander! Lieutenant!” The soldier shouted, then kept shifting eyes over Adam, “O-Ocelot! Are.. are you alright?!”

“We’re fine,” Gene promised.

“Please forgive me, Commander,” The soldier, as well as Cunningham, breathed in shock and adrenaline, “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry,” Gene mused, the trickle of his Voice seeping through, “Fate would never see me hurt.”

Adam tore from the slight mesmerization not from Gene, but from the way the girl stared curiously at him, to scoff inwardly at Gene’s words.

“Now, lie still, and try not to move,” Gene started, singing out his words in the Voice, commanding the soldiers around them, capturing them with starstruck eyes and shaking lips in smiles, listening to the sound of his Voice.

His lies.

Or rather, what Adam believed to be lies, as Gene began his praise to the workers. Gene was all talk, speaking of his respect towards his workers, yet glaring at them behind their backs, a furrowed and narrowed stare not of contempt or distaste, but of objectification. The soldiers, and workers, all but pawns for their use.

Adam, being under the ‘protection’ of the Philosophers all his life, knew that look. The look that he hid from his subjects, that told the opposite of what he spoke. “Ending an era that sees soldiers discarded like tools”.

But the workers bought all of it, saluting viciously as Gene concluded the echo of his power, staring with dreamy eyes, nearly glazed over. Adam had to bend his neck, cracking the rigid bones with a close of his own eyes, letting the waves of Gene’s exit him, leave the grasping that Adam fought against.

And as he turned his head, one eye opened, feeling a different steady gaze land itself on him. Two gazes, one still maintained via the girl near him, who focused on him, a raised brow of curiosity with the pout of full lips.

He wasn’t sure what to read from her, Adam usually praising himself on being able to do so for most people, but he wasn’t surprised the girl was in a separate category.

Instead he turned his eyes to the other gaze, tracing his back, up his neck, and meeting his eyes with one.

* * * * *

“So that’s Gene,” John rumbled, tearing his gaze at Adam to critique the other man, “That voice… And the premonition…”

“Was that ESP?” He asked, mostly aloud, until Jonathan, his first recruitee, shrugged.

“I never thought about it,” He breathed, a little shaky after the ordeal, clearly suffering the effects of Gene.

“Does he use it on the others?” John swallowed, “Cunningham? ...Ocelot?”

“I, never thought about it,” Jonathan repeated, blinking, then focused himself on John, silently mouthing the last name John uttered.

“Wasn’t Ocelot,” Jonathan recalled, “A coworker of yours? He helped you find the Legacy…”

“You know a lot about my missions, huh,” John grumbled, “Yeah. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Though I can’t help but feel like he wouldn’t like that knowledge so wide spread,” John tested, “How’d you know? I thought I was the only poster boy.”

“Gene told us,” Jonathan still couldn’t help the twitch of a smile on him as he thought of his _former_ commander, “I think he wanted to get us to trust him more, but I guess Ocelot didn’t know Gene was going to be gossiping about him to us. Nothing he’s said was bad, though.”

“The Philosopher’s envoy, right?”

“Well, he’s more than that,” Jonathan craned a neck out, watching the group continue onward, John thankful that Adam hadn’t maintained his acknowledgment of him, less shocking Jonathan.

“More?”

“Gene wanted us to trust him as our second Commander, popping in out of nowhere like that,” Jonathan explained, looking curiously at John, “You really didn’t know?”

“What makes you think I would?” John almost said bitterly, trying to draw out what he couldn’t get from Adam.

“You knew about Gene,” Jonathan shrugged, “So I thought you would know about his ‘partner in crime’.”

“What do you mean?” John stretched his jaw cautiously.

“Everything Gene gets is from Ocelot,” Jonathan explained, “Big news for you, huh? Your former comrade.”

“He's in charge?” John’s eyes were wide, recalling the way Adam seemed to walk ahead of the party, the title of "Sir" given by Cunningham, the slightly mute horror of the soldier who caused the mess as they stuttered out "Ocelot".

“Well, basically,” Jonathan admitted, before John’s codec rang, interrupting his questioning.

John ripped his codec out, one fashioned by his recruitees, and answered sharply, conversing instead with Campbell. John sighed, sharing information with Roy about the location of medicine required for Campbell’s malaria, as it seemed to be.

John had to focus on the moment, helping his current comrades for any dangers to come. He had to push aside any growing uncomfortable gnaw about Adam.

He was going to tell him. John knew. John hoped.

But more and more nuggets of truth bled out of Jonathan whenever they chatted, the recent revelation a big one - Adam, head of the operations here in San Hieronymo.

John snapped back to the conversation with Campbell, something about the malaria drugs in the same area of the culture tank mentioned from Cunningham.

“I’ll look for it,” John rasped his promise, before hanging up the call in a quick farewell. Jonathan shuffled awkwardly, watching as John frowned out another stare to where Adam used to be.

“I know you two were comrades,” Jonathan reiterated, “So if it makes you feel any better, I think Ocelot is getting his own orders from someone else, though I’m not sure who.”

“It _doesn’t_ make me feel better,” John muttered absently. It meant Adam was working with someone else, other than himself. More things to hide from him.

EVA hid from him. She drugged him, betrayed him, stole from him and ran off.

The Boss hid from him, ultimately for the good of the country, but still left a gaping painful hole that still shook John whenever he thought too long.

And now Adam.

“Who’s Ocelot getting his orders from?” John asked, hoping for a little more clarity, no matter how much the fear stung at him.

“I don’t think any of us know,” Jonathan hummed, shifting his shoulders in preparation for their next outing, “He’s really secretive. I don’t think Gene knows, or even Ursula.”

“Ursula?”

“The girl,” Jonathan nodded once towards the pile of debris that had crashed around the group, “She’s a legitimate psychic - her ESP is much more powerful than what we imagine Gene has.”

“Well, maybe she does know,” Jonathan scratched as his head, “But I don’t see why she wouldn’t tell us.”

 _I could say the same for Adam_ , John thought to himself, looking around the grounds for some idea of where he was, instead trailing eyes at the path Adam and his group took. If he could tail them, he could find the culture tank.

And maybe get a little time alone with Adam that he was long due for.

* * * * *

Adam skidded around the corner, hoping no one heard him, thankful for once to not have the clicking of his spurs join the movement of his legs.

He had caught sight of John, sneaking around the corner of the medical bay. Adam, immensely curious and itching to be face to face with John once more, followed quickly, before catching a quick look into the room and seeing John and the girl, exchanging hurried conversation.

Adam had hid after that, just as soldiers began barking orders at each other to sweep the area, but his curiosity had doubled since then.

The girl, not Ursula, at the current moment, but as Elisa, the more sane half, helping John, as far as Adam could tell when he caught the words “Hide there, Snake!”

Adam couldn’t afford to reveal himself in front of the ESP, already with her knowing eyes as Ursula all over him, though there was something else in her knowledge that Adam was unaware of.

For all intents and purposes, Adam was truly helping Gene and his soldiers build their paradise. It seemed the only way, currently, to have his justice. His peace.

By destroying the Philosophers.

Gene’s Metal Gear, stolen, gave Adam the curiosity to join their movement, as suggested by his mysterious helper. A faceless person, sending Adam the occasional notice and letter, each with a promise of peace, and a promise of retaliation.

Maybe Adam shouldn’t believe so harshly in the void, but he had nothing else to cling to, not to mention that he could feel it. He could taste the sweet nectar of revenge.

After everything was over with the Philosophers, it wouldn’t be much trouble to take down Gene’s paradise. With a bit of a happy prickle up his back, Adam felt as though he was a major backbone in the entire operation, and it would be easy to tear it apart. Especially with his escaped prisoner running amok.

So with all of that in mind, he had hoped neither Elisa nor Ursula, for that matter, knew about what Adam planned. His years of expertise in the art of being a spy helped build a dignity towards maintaining his privacy.

At least, at the moment, it was Elisa in the same room as _John_. Perhaps they were discussing the Perfect Soldier, nestled in the same area. Either way, John was safe for now.

Even if Elisa managed to pull something over John, Adam had no doubt John could wrestle out of any surprise, even if Null wakened. The Perfect Soldier did manage to kidnap John all the way over here, but that was when John’s guard was completely lowered.

Adam just had to leave his faith where it always was, and continue on his way.

Sighing, he turned back around, upset at not finding a chance to be face to face with John. He had been gone for far longer before without the granting of John, but having him so near teased Adam.

 _Eventually_ , Adam chanted to himself, narrowed eyes as he walked through the medical bay, careful silent steps of his dress shoes on the tiled floor.

_Soon, someday, eventually._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damnit ocelot y u gotta b liek dat


	7. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more tossing and turning of uncomfortable feelings Snake has about his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my poor babies silently fighting, but neither of them know it

He hadn’t spoken to Adam in a while. The codec laid untouched and snuggled inside his jacket. Either he was too busy wrangling up other soldiers and scoring the grounds for more intel, that Adam always neglected to inform him about, or Adam himself was likely always busy.

He didn’t know. He didn’t try to call. He already assumed the answer.

He wasn’t sure what he felt anymore from the past few hours. Sunsets and sunrises. Days. Weeks? He couldn’t tell.

All he could tell were the papers, the intel, the maps, the precious info acquired by his loyal crew.

Loyalty.

Felt like a rare thing nowadays.

* * * * *

First, the missing soldiers. Then, the suspicious soldiers. Now, missing supplies. Explosions. Destroyed equipment, buildings even..

He hadn’t spoken to John in a while. Each moment he found himself time to try sending a call over, something else came up - a hurried call over his radio, an emergency alarm to patrol certain areas. He was just supposed to be in charge, he saw no reason to be gallivanting about alongside the patrols, especially when he saw how blinded they all were. Diversions, all of them, as John kept sneaking in and out.

But he found himself doing following anyway. If he couldn't get him over the codec, maybe he could…

No, that wouldn’t do. It was just like the mission in Tselinoyarsk. They were “enemies”.

Only on the surface, though, right?

Yet the constant barrage at his things was tearing at his patience. He was bounced between the negotiations made towards other bodies of power, the negotiations for the Philosophers, the negotiations for FOX _against_ the Philosophers.

All while overseeing the preparations for their Metal Gear.

He prickled, shivers, excited taps of his fingers on the desk, over the stacks of information that were so dutifully handed to him every morning.

The rush of intoxicated glee came over him. Confidence. Enough to dance his fingers over to the codec laid at the corner.

A few rings, sitting, waiting. He had the time, for once. Maybe not a lot, not enough to go over any specifics of course. Never the time.

He almost didn’t notice when the ringing went unanswered, simply ceasing after several bleeps.

He frowned, looking with fluttering lashes at the radio. Maybe _John_ was busy this time around.

Sighing, Adam stood up, situating the codec back onto his desk where it continued to collect dust. Adam stepped out of his room, deciding to start his meeting with his “old friend” a little early.

* * * * *

He had stared at his codec for a while, debating with himself as it rang on. When he saw the frequency, he felt anger. It shocked him, rippled at him, but he couldn’t get rid of it.

And when the ringing died, that anger faded, satisfyingly enough, until the twinges and aching creeps of sadness crept back in.

John sighed.

He put the codec to his forehead, feeling it through the bandanna he still wore in her memory.

How’d it come to this?

Was it his fault? John clenched his teeth, dragging the codec back down to stare at it.

He did just… try calling him. Maybe now John would finally get what he’d been pining for?

Ignoring both of the previous uncomfortable feelings, John tried to return the call. Licking his dry lips with his dry tongue, he listened far too intently to the stark tones.

But was returned with silence after the tones ceased.

The two feelings came back, this time in unison. Maybe he just missed his chance. He tried calling him first, so it meant he was reaching out to him. Probably.

A normally steady hand shook as it tried another call. More stark tones. More silence.

John slowly put the codec away, loosening all of his muscles until he felt nothing.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder, not even stirring John up in shock, but rather with a slow turn of his head.

Jonathan, pointed with two fingers to the direction of shouting that John only just noticed. With a creased brow, he following the fingers, ignoring the sudden onset of curious worrying that Jonathan displayed.

When he recognized one of the voices, a little more ragged than he last remembered.

It wasn’t Adam. Of course it wasn’t. Not at this rate.

But another voice he recalled back in his time, tearing John out of the muddled thoughts in his brain. It was strange - more and more of his past coming back. First the “child soldier” Elisa displayed to him, and now…

He watched the angry bickering between the man he recognized, and a man he did not. Watching until the bickering became fighting, though severely one sided. A blast of cold. Chilling not only in temperature, but in an ominisity.

And one man was sealed, ice freezing around a cage as the trapped man shouted more slurs. But for a moment, John settled his eyes on the other, a comrade.

“Python,” John rumbled aloud, “You’re alive..”

He wasn’t sure to be relieved, or to prepare himself for another onslaught of depression. Another “comrade” on this damned Peninsula where John was on the other side.

John watched as Python strolled away, curious about how he seemed.. different… until John remembered something.

Colonel, the caged man had called himself. Reinforcements from Russia. The Russian base?

Maybe a person higher up in the hierarchy who also despised Gene, as it seemed, would be a little valuable.

Since no one _else_ was willing to divulge information to John.

A quick reassuring glance to Jonathan, and a motion to stay put, John walked over.

* * * * *

All he talked of was Gene. Gene and Gene and Gene.

Riddled with insane laughter, bulging eyes, drunk not only on the alcohol seeping out of his breath, but the twisted anger that burned in him.

John didn’t think he could get anything else out of the man, resulting instead for shooting the strangely frozen lock, letting the poor neglected Colonel free.

It might have been a bad choice in hindsight, considering the way he continued to guffaw to no one when the door creaked open, but John was thinking of someone else, even after the busy talk over what he had learned with Campbell.

Gene. Fear. John never really had a true battle with someone who used ESP, so what was John in for this time?

Maybe...Maybe Gene had affected.. Adam.

It might be a good excuse if Adam never seemed willing to share with John. Was that a small glimmer and shred of hope still clinging to the trust he had in him?

Now that he thought about it, did John _still_ -

No, he still did. He had to.

These complications were scattering in John’s mind even when he discovered the out of place crate in the harbor, likely what Elisa had wanted John to find. Unfortunately for his entire party, only spare parts were left behind. Spare parts for what appeared to be a tank or vehicle.

A quick call over to Campbell to discuss the contents had Roy thinking the same thing. John suddenly found himself again in his memories. A land based weapon…

No, but Campbell was right, if the weapon Gene stole had the capabilities of launching projectiles to every major city in Russia, it couldn’t have been land-based.

But this…

Ugh, John just had to keep searching. It would be so much easier, and so much more comfortable if he just. Had. More.

John didn’t know why this was bothering him so much. From what he recalled, John had no trouble obtaining information without help from the inside. But this time…

His codec rang, interrupting John.

“Campbell?” John asked, wondering why Roy called back to quickly, until he saw the number. No one he knew off the top of his head.

“Ad…” John hesitated, a name on his tongue, before a sinister chuckle came over the call, albeit a little overly done.

“Who is this?” John bristled in suspicion.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” The voice bubbled, giddily in a strange way, “I just heard a familiar voice and thought I’d say hello.”

“I can’t thank you _enough_ for taking care of _Volgin_.”

“Volgin-” John blinked, even more confusion added to his already clogged up mind, “At Groznyj Grad?”

But the voice wasn’t who he had hoped it was. Not him. Not Adam. So who..?

“Yes, so you do remember!” John noticed how the voice sounded feigned, the owner putting on a deeper voice to try and disguise himself.

“Who are you?” John demanded.

“Sorry, but I can’t reveal my name just yet,” The voice hummed, the tapping of fingers drilling a surface, “For now… you can call me… ‘Prividyenie’!”

“Prividyenie,” John repeated, translating for himself, “Ghost.”

John tried connecting anything in his mind as he chatted with the spectre, informed about their eavesdropping on his conversation. It settled uncomfortably for him, of course, not liking whatever John did being open to trespassers, much like this “Ghost”.

And then the sweet details unfolded, gripping John as he learned from the hints of the overly-excited eavesdropper.

“The Shagohod,” John breathed, remembering the horrific battalion, land-based, “So the prototype weapon Gene stole..”

“No, but the Shagohod was only capable of firing a single intermediate-range missile,” John remembered fighting it, six years ago, alongside two companions who no longer seemed so willing to maintain contact with him. One of them he could only somewhat understand. The other… well. He still had yet to figure that out, “It couldn’t possibly have hit every major city in Russia.”

“You’re right,” The voice’s original voice trickled through, prickling at the back of John’s head. ‘Ghost’..

“The _old_ Shagohod could never do that.” The voice put the deepness back in with a cough, trying a little too hard, “But America has already developed a working MIRV.”

John pieced it together, reiterating the capabilities of multiple independently targetable re-entry vehicles. That’s where the ‘every major city’ tidbit came in.

A new horror overcame him. This was what Gene had the possibility to do. And if Gene had the thought… then…

Adamska…

But the Ghost began to relay the weak points of MIRVs, giving John a little more comfortably with what he was dealing with. In fact, he had fought the old Shagohod. Maybe things would be a little different this time around, but John was always good and finding ways to resolve things.

At least, with the fighting. People themselves were a little more difficult.

And as Ghost continued, describing how Gene planned on resolving those weak points with the research going on in the peninsula, things just kept getting worse and worse.

But who was this Ghost, and how did he know? They weren’t Granin, as John questioned when comparing the similarities of this new “weapon” to what he recalled the Metal Gear design had.

A Ghost. It would seem fitting, but the spectre was far too accepting of it. They liked their mystery, it seemed. John would have a little bit of trouble getting their identity out of them.

They said their farewells, John intent on maintaining contact with this mysterious person. It was satisfying, having someone who knew so much about what exactly was going on.

Finally John had someone like that this time around.

* * * * *

Adam wondered. By now his old friend must have contacted John. Between the negotiations he was making, Adam could tell the greedy way Gene lingered about the area. He wanted to turn their bluffs into a reality.

Obviously nuking the entire country of Russia didn’t sit well with Adam. After all these years, his loyalty to the Motherland may have dwindled, caring little for political affairs. But, it was still the Motherland. Either way, Russia wasn’t what Adam had a grudge on.

Even then, Adam wasn’t going to nuke the entire country of America to get back at the Philosophers either.

But Gene saw nothing other than the power lingering over his fingers and his Voice. He still maintained an odd respect for Adam, so he hoped things would eventually turn out for the best.

Of course, just in case, if Adam himself couldn’t get an easy way of helping John out like they used to - in the good old days - he’d have to have had someone else come along, another participant from the past.

From their meeting, Adam remembered the stupidly naive way he came up with his ‘codename’. Prividyenie. Ghost. The dead, come back to life.

Sokolov, of course.

Adam had The Boss to thank for that, saving Sokolov discreetly with that special fake death pill when Volgin had beat him to a pulp. Who knew that the sniveling wimp of a scientist would be so helpful nowadays?

He would have laughed, everything clicking together. Gene thinking he could use Sokolov to help with the Metal Gear design, but everything happening right now was far too similar to Tselinoyarsk.

But Adam just needed everything to hold out a little bit longer. His negotiations were coming to a close as well. All these strings tugging in different directions and Adam stuck in the middle.

Wanting a little comfort, Adam considered another try at John’s codec, reaching quickly for that dusty device.

But it rang back instead, before his hand could reach it. Narrowing his eyes, Adam looked. It was from Sokolov.

Probably searching for approval for a job well done. He was almost like a child, finally having a little more power than he used to, in all the years since Groznyj Grad.

Sighing, Adam answered the call, humoring Sokolov and approving of the information shared.

As for Adam’s own communication with John, it seemed like that would have to hold out just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly but surely :)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't really keep that steady a schedule with Portable Temptation as I could with [The Temptation of ADAM](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4803248/chapters/10994771), because this fic is going to require a lot more thinking on my part, as opposed to the first fic where I had a lot of it already planned! Bear with me folks!
> 
> Updates **Tuesdays** , and **Fridays** at 12AM EST, until I figure out a better and more frequent schedule (as I figure more and more of the plot!)
> 
> Can I also direct your attention to what I drew
> 
> [A Cowboy Ocelot pinup](http://revolverfnibblet.tumblr.com/post/131113198905/of-course-i-had-to-draw-a-pinup-for-my-cowboy-au). THATS RIGHT. For my [Cowboy AU](http://revolverfnibblet.tumblr.com/tagged/spaghetti-revolvers) that I'm drawing a comic of :)
> 
> Follow my [fic tumblr](http://shalashacelot.tumblr.com/) for fic updates/Metal Gear things, and follow my metal gear [art blog](http://revolverfnibblet.tumblr.com/) for metal gear art things <3


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